


bottom of the deep blue sea

by ElevenGaleStorms



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Always a Different Sex, Arno-centric, Dark!Arno, Fem!Arno - Freeform, Female Arno Dorian - Freeform, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-25
Updated: 2017-11-25
Packaged: 2019-02-06 18:38:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12823656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElevenGaleStorms/pseuds/ElevenGaleStorms
Summary: Arno and her thoughts as she ventures down her path. Starting as a puppet, a guardian, and then something else entirely.





	bottom of the deep blue sea

**Author's Note:**

> Alternate Chapter title: Childhood

“Kill it,” Monsieur De La Serre ordered as he held down the struggling rabbit. Its fear-stricken eyes bore into Arno, and she felt her grip on the falter. But she needed to do this. Arno needed to be capable of doing this for herself, for Elise.

She gripped the knife tightly and didn’t dare close her eyes as it pierced the all too soft body of the animal. It didn’t die the first time as it let out a bloody cry, and Monsieur De La Serre ordered her to do it once more.

And she did it again and again-

Arno came back to the house with bloody hands and the servants of the household whispering one thing:

Monster.

From then on, she made sure to wash her hands before coming back from hunting with her guardian.

(The blood still doesn’t wash off. It never does.)

One time, Elise played with Arno in the forest and looked curiously in morbid fascination at a crimson spot in the grass.

Right where Arno killed that rabbit.

(She tried to resist the urge to flinch when Elise grabbed her hands-too tainted- in her haste to have her play.)

* * *

The lessons continued. Plucking a bird’s feathers became one of the hunting lessons, and then they moved onto deer.

Until one day, he handed her a gun. The weapon felt foreign and clunky in her hands. But she tried to emulate how she saw it being held in the past.

“There is a red cross in the woods. Find it,” He pointed towards the dark, woods surrounding the de la Serre estate.

“Why?” Monsieur de la Serre gave her a look that told many things.

“You lost it,” He was wrong, of course. It was Elise who did so. They had raced around, and the pin had fallen off. But Arno was there.

And so it was her fault and responsibility.

She moved one foot at a time and heard her feet crunch the leaves littering the ground. As she dared to venture deeper, the shadows darted closer and closer-

An ominous growling vibrated the very air she breathed, and Arno’s heart stopped. Her breathing quickened, and her grip on the gun was shaky at best as she pointed it towards the bush from where the sound was coming from.

One shot. That was all she had.

The bush shook, and Arno’s finger lightly pulled back the hammer of the gun carefully. Leaves crunched, and something inside her jerked.

A gunshot pierced the air itself, and the growling stopped.

Slowly and carefully did Arno stalk closer to the bush. She pushed aside the undergrowth and found the mangy corpse of a wolf. It looked to be mad with its mouth having foam clinging to it, and dirty skin hugging its bones.

And right next to it was the red cross. She kneeled down and picked it up as she stared at the wolf’s corpse. Something was missing. She could just feel it.

“Your fight is over, old wolf.” she closed her eyes for a second. And for that one second, she wondered if she would be like that, one day.

An old wolf drove mad by life and its torment ended by a shot from those sane.

* * *

 

Elise had begun to withdraw from her with an apparent reason explaining her actions, and Arno just buried down what she felt. Even though Elise got to say goodbye, and even had both of her parents for a time. Even-

The spoon against the delicate glass hit a tad too hard, and Arno jerked out of her thoughts. The de la Serres and herself sat at a dinner table too large for just themselves. The empty seat next to Francois still had silverware and plates laid out as if the missing guest would still come.

(She didn’t dare question who belonged in that seat.)

The waiters brought in the food laden in elaborate dishes. As she picked up her fork to dig into the rabbit brought in to eat, the food felt tasteless in her mouth.

* * *

 

Arno reached the age of 16, and Francois gave her a letter to deliver and a gun with one shot in it.

In the filthy and ruthless streets of Paris, she saw a hooded figure with a cloth covering their face lurking. She took a sharp turn to the alley to her right. The man followed before lunging at her with blades extended from his wrists.

Just like how she killed that mad wolf, she squeezed the trigger-

And he was dead on the ground with robes now dyed crimson pooling around him.

Almost like a bird with its wings broken, she morbidly thought.

Minutes later, she gave the letter to a rather portly man with blood and grime coating her face.

Monsieur de la Serre gave her another assignment and then another.

And each time she came back with that one shot in the gun used. She killed with every letter she delivered, until one day he handed her a stiletto. The thin yet long blade was hidden in the loose sleeves of her robes, ready to be used at any time.

And on the next assignment, it is used. Arno sees a hooded figure, only this time without a cloth masking their face. He stalks closer, and Arno only veers away from the soldiers and melts into the crowd flowing down the streets of Paris.

He followed, and she struck.

Arno angled the stiletto to where it fit snugly in his body until she slipped it out of its fleshy sheath and hid it in the sleeves of her robes. Her hands deftly took the exciting yet foreign bracers off the man in a curious afterthought. The man stumbled briefly for a second as she walked away before collapsing onto the streets. The crowd only moved on, even stepping on his corpse, with the thought of a shameful drunkard in their way.

When she returned home, Francois took one look at the bracers she held, and Arno just knew something changed.

* * *

Words slipped out of her lips thoughtlessly almost, but there was one thing that rang in her mind in the final, repeated words she said with a ring on her finger.

**_“May the Father of Understanding guide us all.”_ **

**Author's Note:**

> I know that Francois was probably out of character in this. But I just wanted to experiment and write about a childhood where Arno had a more ruthless upbringing. I hope you didn't get offended by this. Thanks for reading!


End file.
